Bloody Mary
by tineri talentati
Summary: America just watched his new movie "Paranormal Activity 3" and now he wants to put "Bloody Mary" to the test. Dragging an unwilling England with him, he decides to summon the demonic spirit, convinced it's just a rumour or a myth. Well, sometimes even myths are based on the truth... Rated T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1: A myth

**Hello, all! This is my very first fanfic ever! I'm so excited! Well, i hope you enjoy, it probably sucks because it is my first...oh, well i'll shut up now!**

**Ugh, bad prologue thing is bad...**

**By the way, i (obviously) do not own hetalia or any movies i might make reference to. Just pointing it out.**

* * *

England watched the American, torn between annoyance and amusement.

"You want me to do WHAT with you? Why?"

"Like, dude I watched this scary movie called '_Paranormal Activity 3' _and I want to do that '_Bloody Mary'_ thing. You know where you stand in front of a mirror, say 'Bloody Mary' 3 times and turn off the light? It'll be SO awesome and scary!"

"Yes, I heard you the first time, but you haven't answered my question: Why do want me to attend this little 'ritual' with you?" The Brit crossed his arms and stared at America, who started fidgeting slightly.

"Well, OBVIOUSLY, this thing is supposed to be a myth or whatever, so I want to bring you along so you can totally be a witness to me being THE HERO and summoning a real, live ghost!" America answered with his obnoxious laugh, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He may have looked tough but England saw through him.

"You're just terrified to be alone with a ghost." He smiled slightly, "You're such a git, oh and ghosts can't be real OR live technically since they're the souls of the DEAD."

America scoffed, "It takes one to know one" He retorted.

"What the hell does that mean?!" .

"well, you're, like, eyebrows deep in the 'magic arts' and stuff, right? So, can't you naturally see ghosts or something?"

England's eye twitched at America's little joke but he kept his cool, honestly _where_ did he go wrong when raising this imbecile? "Ghosts ARE real and just because i can 'see' stuff like that doesn't make me the equivalent to one! Honestly!" He stood up and mumbled something in Scottish English, one of the only things he inherited from his big brother, and started to walk out. He turned to face the American, "fine I'll come but you have no idea what you're getting yourself into." _All the better reason to go, _he thought to himself. He should at least be there to try and stop America from doing anything majorly stupid. And the myth was OBVIOUSLY fake.

Wasn't it?

* * *

**Yes! First chapter done! Sorry about the length, most of my chapters will be longer, i promise. **

**Scottish English is a real language spoken in Scotland, I did not make that up, i just thought it would be cool to add a little of England actaully like "inheriting" something from when he lived with Scotland, so Voila!**

**Anyway hope you liked! Reviews and criticism are always welcome! :)**


	2. Chapter 2: The true test

**What up my fine fellows? Chapter 2 is up! And in such short timing, I'm on a roll! ugh, you have no idea how nerve racking it was to write this chapter! I don't believe in her, but anything's possible! And i have a full body mirror on my closet door and my desk is in the mirror's path. As i was writing this i kept staring at the mirror expecting to see a bloody girl. *Shivers***

**I do not own hetalia or any other movies mentioned blah,blah,blah**

**And now ON WITH THE STORY!**

* * *

Britain arrived at America's house right as the sun was about to set. He STILL couldn't believe he was doing this. He rang the bell and waited. The door was flung open not 3 seconds later (Which made him wonder if America was waiting by the door) and England was literally yanked through, into the spacious living room.

"SUP, BRITISH DUDE!"

"A little edgy are we?" He asked, mockingly, rubbing his shoulder, which was nearly yanked out of it's socket. America was visibly shaking and he was a little paler than usual. England softened, "America, are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"What? Yeah, dude! I'm totally gonnna go through with it because I"M THE HERO!" America answered a little louder than usual, which when you think about it is pretty loud.

"You really shouldn't yell like that, it might make someone think you were _nervous_" England said with a smile, "what are we waiting for anyway?"

"Dude, have you ever seen a scary movie? The sun has to go completely down, duh!" America said, more like his usual, annoying self.

"Where did I go wrong with you?" England asked, shaking his head.

"Well, your cooking might be a good place to start." America sneered.

England reddened with anger, "You make one more joke at my expense and i'll turn you into a frog!"

"Sorry!" America immediately said, knowing full well England would do it, although he didn't really believe in the Brit's abilities. Instead he looked out the window, the sun was barely visible over the horizon. He sighed and turned to look at the already annoyed Brit.

"I think it's time! Come on let's do this before it gets too dark out!" The American ran down a hallway with England close behind (America was practically dragging him) and entered a luxurious bathroom with a mirror running fully across one of the four walls. America flicked on the light and stared at the mirror, determinedly, opened his mouth...

...and ran out of the room.

"OY! Where are you going? Are you backing out?" England yelled down the hall.

"No way, dude, I just need to get this on tape!" america returned with a video camera, which he sat down on the counter, angled at the mirror.

England shook his blonde head, "you've been spending WAY too much time with Hungary and Japan." He said with a small smile.

America ignored him and fidgeted with the camera, tilting it this way and that.

"What in bloody hell are you doing?" The Brit asked with an expression torn between annoyance and interest.

"Trying to get the best angle! When Bloody Mary shows up, I totally want to catch her on camera!"

"Yeah, since you'll be running as fast as you can toward Canada's house."

"Hey! Don't make jokes about me either! O-or else!" America stuttered, going pink.

England rolled his eyes but stayed quiet. America stopped fiddling with the camera, satisfied. He stepped back beside England who was feeling extremely foolish. America shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He started drawing on the mirror with what looked like waterproof bath chalk; a clumsy circle with a difficult star pattern in the middle, and a strange line surrounding the entire thing. Britain stared, confused, _'that's funny it looks a little like the diagrams i draw when using black magic...'_

"Bloody Mary...Bloody Mary..." America said, putting the chalk down. He looked like he was about to faint, which caused England's nerves to be on edge. He'd never seen the movie before but he'd heard of Bloody Mary and he had enough sense to leave her alone, if she was real. He wasn't afraid, but being able to "see" better than most others (Norway and Romania could see creatures too and he had a suspicion about Italy) he was naturally cautious about situations like this.

"...Bloody Mary!..." America shouted and flicked off the light. England stood in the darkness for a minute and opened his mouth to shout at America for wasting his time, but he found that he couldn't. He shivered, when did it get so cold in there? Was that America's heavy breathing? He looked at the mirror and all possible noises died in his throat.

There were 3 people in the mirror.

* * *

**Eeeek! Guess who~?! hehehe, YES! She didn't show up! I'm alive and well. What will happen to our heros? Chapter 3 will be uploaded soon!**

**Btw, i have no idea what to call england's diagrams so it was either that or "magic circle" i can't find the official term for it...so if you know it i'm much obliged! ;)**


	3. Chapter 3: The knife strikes

**ok, chapter 3 BTW thank you all who have stuck with the story and told me you liked it you have no idea what that means to me! WARNING: slight gore, nothing totally major, creepy descriptions, that is all. There _might_ be some very slight yaoi but that depends on how you look at it.**

**Writing this is making me a nervous wreak! Before you call me a wuss, remember the mirror and it's past 9 p.m. here and it's dark and quiet...Creepin' me out...Anyway!**

**I don not own hetalia or any other movies mentioned...yadda yadda legal stuff**

**ONWARDS!**

* * *

England stood there, green eyes wide. He could barely breathe from shock and he knew America wasn't much better if not worse. He stared in the mirror at the shadowy girl staring back at him. She was wearing a dress that could have been white but was covered with red stains and was ripped in several places. Her hair was blacker than the darkest black you could come up with, and it covered her face and hung at her waist but he could still see her eyes; bright black eyes and instead of white her eyes were surrounded by red. She stared at him and smiled.

If looks could kill, her smile would have made him hit the stone floor. He whimpered and backed up, into America, who whispered in his ear.

"Dude...can you feel that draft? It's cold in here! ...Hey! What's wrong?!"

England looked up dumbfounded, "Can't you see her?"

America looked at the mirror confused, then laughed, causing England to jump.

"Shut up! You don't know what she can do!" England whispered, not daring to look directly at the mirror.

"Dude, don't tell me _I _actually scared _you_! HAHAHA, seriously, dude there's nothing there! Look!" America cupped his hands around England's face and turned him toward the mirror. England opened one eye and saw that there was no one but the two of them; America looking smug and holding him, and he, England, looking like he had (pardon the phrase) just seen a ghost. England yanked out of America's grasp, his face burning. America laughed again and flicked on the light, proving that they were the only ones there.

"Dude, I thought I'd be able to scare you but i didn't expect you to get _that_ scared! I mean i was pretty freaked out too, but nothing happened!" America said, looking slightly worried, "Are you ok, Iggy?"

"Yes! I'll be fine! And DON"T CALL ME THAT!" England snapped in annoyance and worry. He got up and walked into the living room. The girl was gone but he could still sense her somewhere...lurking out of sight...waiting for the perfect time to strike...

He shook himself, _'Don't think about that' _He instructed himself. It was nothing, right?

He jumped a mile high when America put his hand on his shoulder, "Are you sure you're ok? You're all shaky and pale, did i scare you that bad?"

"_You_ didn't scare me! It was that bloody _thing_ in the mirror! I was dragged along on this stupid venture of courage to 'SEE' things remember? Well, I saw t-that!" He mini-ranted. He took a shaky breath and continued in a calmer tone, "America what time is it?"

America started at the change in England's tone but he answered, "Uhh, about 10:30, you should probably stay over for the night, the streets aren't safe for an old guy like you." He smiled his trademark smile.

"Why you little-" Britain sighed, he really didn't need another fight, "I guess I should stay over, but i didn't bring anything..."

"Totally got you covered, my british man! You can use something of mine!"

"Well, thank you America." Britain mumbled as he watched the American zip upstairs. He sat down on a leather couch and rubbed his eyes, maybe he _did_ imagine that girl, but how could he imagine something with so much detail? And she looked so familiar...

"Here you are, dude!" America said, jolting England out of his thoughts, and handed him a pajama pant and shirt combo.

"Thank you America" Britain said for the second time. America smiled and said,

"I don't think i need to tell you where the bathroom is."

England decided to ignore that and went to take a shower, he was still uncomfortably aware of the third presence in the house, but he managed to push it out of his mind.

After his shower, America showed him to a guest bedroom next to America's own. England said "Goodnight" and shut the door to his temporary room. He was about to try to sleep, but he couldn't shake the feeling of insecurity, so he turned and locked the door. He got into the four poster bed and layed there, unwilling to fall asleep. But his heavy eyelids betrayed him and he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

_He was standing in a field, in the middle of nowhere. How did he get here? He turned around and saw a young girl in a cute white calf-length dress, her dark black hair ran down to her waist, and she was facing away from him. He was confused, where were the girl's parents?_

_"Hello, are you lost?" He asked. The girl made no move to acknowledge him. Thinking she hadn't heard him, he spoke up, "Hey, Little Girl? Where Are Your Parents?"_

_"...No, I'm not lost" The girl said slowly in a higher-pitched voice._

_"Well, where are your parents?__"_

_"...Gone..." She answered again, slowly. This just made him more confused._

_"Gone where?"_

_"...Just gone..."_

_"Well, when are they going to be back?" The way this girl spoke was starting to freak him out._

_The girl giggled maliciously, "...They're never coming back..." He could practically hear the smile in her voice._

_"W-what do you mean?"_

_"...They can't come back...hehehehe" She giggled and turned around. England gasped, he'd recognize those red and black eyes with HIS eyes shut. The girl smiled the smile of the dead and England's eyes jumped to the huge butcher's knife in her hands. It was dripping with fresh blood, the blood was seeping into her not-so-white and ripped dress. And she had blood on her hands and face. The girl giggled again and spoke, _

_"...They can't come back...They're gone!" She outright laughed venom and swung the knife around. England took a stumbling step back and tripped on something. Landing heavily on his elbows and back he looked at what tripped him and gagged when he saw the body of a man, similar to England in stature and with blonde hair. There were heavy gashes covering the man from head to toe. England looked up at the girl, now a young women, and blanched. She was barely 3 feet away from him and the knife was pointed at him. She was staring at him with amusement, like a child dissecting a frog. _

_"You summoned me and now you must pay the price" She stated as if pointing out the weather, but her unspoken words were the ones that packed a punch. She smiled that heart chilling smile and raised the knife. As the knife struck his midsection, England found his voice and screamed..._

* * *

**HAHAHAHA Cliffhangers! Sorry, I will get the next chapter done tomorrow i promise! By the way his "midsection" is his stomach just clarifying.**

**So, yeah Review if you liked or if you have any criticism or suggestions for future chapters your contribution is well and truly appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4: The truth hurts

**Woo! Thank you all who have reviewed, favorited, and followed, YOU HAVE MADE MY DAY! **

**OK, on with the story, sorry if this scene sucks, i'm not used to doing this type of "scene"**

* * *

England woke up abruptly, realizing that someone was shaking and there was a firey(or however you spell it) pain running from his shoulder to his hip. America was standing over him, looking petrified.

"YO, ENGLAND! _ENGLAND!_ WAKE UP, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?!" America was shouting, but it was all rather fuzzy to him.

"W-w-what d-do you mean?" He asked, slightly panicked, America never used his full name.

"JUST LOOK AT YOURSELF! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"

England looked down and saw the sheets were stained in crimson, well _that_ woke him up. He gasped in pain and shock when he saw he was bleeding from a gash that ran from his left shoulder to his right hip. Seeing the amount of blood he was losing and feeling the pain that came with it nearly made the Brit pass out, but he held on to the cruel reality. He tried to slow his beating heart and stay conscious because him freaking out or blacking out would only result in more blood loss or worse. As he was doing that America was wrapping him up in the sheet, making a makeshift dressing for the wound. When he was finished the American sat on the edge of the bed, his breathing rapid.

"W-w-what happened , England?" America asked, "I heard you scream and when i got in here you were thrashing around and there w-was b-blood everywhere..." his tone suggested he was trying to keep his voice steady, but was failing signifigantly. Britain tryed to sit up but was pushed back down by America, "and stay down, that's a nasty cut you have, where did it come from?"

Britain looked in America's sapphire eyes, "You probably won't believe me, you know"

The American smiled, "At this point i'll believe anything"

Britain looked at America and realized something,

"Umm, how did you get in here? I locked the door."

America grinned sheepishly and turned a dusty pink, "Uhh, w-well, I heard you scream and when I tried to open your door it was locked so i kinda had to...ah.." He waved his hand toward a splintered doorframe and a destroyed bedroom door. England's eyes widened and he chuckled, which caused him to cough, which caused him to wince. America looked at him worriedly,

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked, his eyes traveling to the now blood soaked sheet, which seemed to have slowed if not stopped the bleeding.

Britain smiled at his companion's concern,"I don't think so, besides I'm a nation so i should heal in a few hours or so." He had never been so happy to be an immortal nation in his entire existence. A regular human would have bled to death in that amount of time.

America sighed and looked at England, "Dude, you never answered my question, _What the fuck did this to you?_"

England looked at America and answered, slightly embarrassed, "It was the girl in the mirror, the one only I could see...but she is no ghost."

America merely looked his confusion, "well, then what is she?"

England smiled wistfully, the weight of his injuries washing over him in a haze. But he realized where he'd seen that girl before, when Russia was blinded by her, she had had his eye color but they were the same.

"My dear idiot, you have summoned a demon..." He whispered before succumbing to the haze of sleep. He slept dreamlessly, but this was only the beginning.

* * *

**Ughh, short and horrible chapter is short and horrible. Sorry this sucked but i wanted to post today and i'm having a weird kind of Writer's Nuisance, you can write but only just.**

**I know i said in ch. 3 that he got hit in the stomach well i decided to make it a little more "Physical"**

**The "russia going blind" thing is off of another fanfic called "Snow blindness" by KoroSuka look it up i just used the demon nothing else!**

**Thank you for reading, and if you want you can review with suggestions for this and the next chapters, i might use them to remake this into a better chapter. Well, das vidanya!**


	5. Chapter 5: Waking up

**I wanna thank all those who have reviewed saying my other chapter wasn't bad you made my day! And this chapter won't have much except for the shadow down a hallway or something goes bump in the light or something like that XD and some yaoi! As you can plainly see i write as i go along. **

**Ooh, man i'm freaked the F** out! I just watched a "Let's play" walkthrough of something called "Bong Chong Dong Ghost" by pewdiepie OH MY GOD WATCH IF YOU DARE I NEARLY HAD A HEART ATTACK! XD**

**Oh, before i forget i edited chapter 2 and changed/added something so if you have already read it before i changed it then if you want you can read the changes :) if you don't you aren't missing much, i just clarifies something!**

**I do not own hetalia but if i did i wouldn't be here i'd be making a movie for HetaOni! (HINT HINT Hetalia makers!) ;)**

England woke up to the beeping of an alarm clock. He looked over and saw that it was 8:30. He was about to get up when he heard a noise, he looked down and was shocked to see America passed out on the floor. He chuckled and kicked the nation slightly, which caused America to jolt awake, his glasses hanging off one ear.

"Whuzzit-? Whozzit-?"

England laughed slightly, and sat up on the edge of the bed. The night was a blur for him, but his little "nightmare" was vivid in his mind. He pulled his shirt up and looked down at his torso, somewhere in the course of the night America had put real bandages on his cut, which seemed to still be bleeding. This worried him slightly, but once again he felt grateful to be a nation, although he felt guilty about his citizens. America eyed him warily (his glasses back on his nose), Britain's words echoing in his mind.

"Dude, i'm gonna make some breakfast, can you walk or should i carry you?" he asked jokingly. England went pink and scowled.

"I can walk fine, you fobbish twit" He retorted and stood up to prove his point. He ended up swaying alarmingly from a light head, and fell (somehow) into America's arms. He went tomato red.

"P-put me down, I'm fine! This really isn't neccessary! Come on, this is undignified!" England complained as America scoffed and carried him to the kitchen. America set the Brit down in chair at the kitchen table.

"And not a single fuck was given." America said as an answer with a trademark smile. England glared at him, and shut up. America then turned toward the stove and started cooking who knew what type of food, but knowing him; it was probably something deep fried.

"Oh, and I wanted to ask you something..." America paused as if searching for words or effect.

"Oh, really? Well, what is it?" Asked the already annoyed Brit.

"Do you remember what you said last night? About this 'girl' you keep seeing?" He cricked his fingers in emphasis.

England pondered for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed, "Not really, it's all fuzzy. The only thing i remember clearly is my nightmare..." He shivered as he recalled the cold, indifferent eyes of the girl, "Why? What did i say?"

"You said she was a d-demon." He said and suddenly looked around the kitchen, as if expecting to find her pressing her nose against a window. England laughed lightly.

"Well, it's true. She was the same demon that wouldn't leave Russia alone, although she looks and acts a little different than the last time i saw her..."

"Really? The same one? Well, that sucks..." The American said, remembering the incident sourly, "Are you sure she isn't just another one of your stupid imaginary friends?"

The Brit went red with indignation, "Hey! They aren't imaginary! They are as real as that alien you _supposedly_ are housing at this so-called area 51..."

"Leave Tony out of this! And how the HELL do you know about area 51? That's totally top secr-"

CRASH!

* * *

**I'm SO SO SO SO sorry about the long update! I got caught up writing another fan-fic for this game called "Ib" (great game) my internet cut out for a**

**week, my friend came over and i didn't write out of courtesy because i don't want to seem rude, and this little cretin of a 4 year old came to visit and she**

**destroyed my room, OH and 8th grade just started for me!...so yeah. I really do apologize! **

**And i apologize if the ending seems a bit...off i thought it looked good.**

**jeez look at me saying sorry all the time i could be canadian! (I'm american with british descent)**

**Anyway, CIAO!**


	6. Chapter 6:Are you fucking kidding me?

**Heyoooo! Guess who? ;) How's it goin' bros? (Pewdiepie reference FTW) Apologies for not updating you will find out why after the story!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia (WAHHH!) but i do own my own female Kumijiro, who i have named Kumajira!**

* * *

Both men jumped about 10 ft high, screaming. America screamed like a girl in fright, England screamed in pain. America recovered quickly enough, although he was panting.

"What in bloody HELL was that?!" England hissed, holding his wound where it had hit the edge of the oak table.

"I don't know, but i'm about to find o-out" America answered, practically sprinting toward where the crash came from. England sat there bewildered then he heard America scream, he quickly got up to follow the American, but when he stood up he suddenly felt like all the air in the room had vanished, he couldn't breathe and there was an intense pressure falling on his injury. He felt like blacking out and his vision went dark. But just as quickly as it befell him it was gone. He opened his eyes and took a shaky breath, realizing that he had fell and was sitting against the wall of the gleaming kitchen. He stood up, using the wall as a support and hobbled toward where America had gone. He ended up in the living room, where America was standing surveying what had happened. England edged around him and his eyes widened.

The living room was destroyed, the chandelier that had been hanging above had fallen, resulting in the crash. Glass and crystal shards were everywhere and they had destroyed the couch and tv (which had glass sticking OUT of the screen) and the frame of the chandelier had broken the table completely in two. America whimpered and England couldn't blame him, he would be freaked out too if this had happened.

"My TV! My games! NO! How could she?!" America whailed practically crying. England stared at him incrediously, sure that the American had finally lost it once and for all.

"REALLY?! Your entire living room is destroyed and electronics are all you can think of, you blithering fool?" England physically face-palmed with a sigh.

"B-but, i was so close to finishing Silent Hill:2 ! And Amnesia:The dark descent!" America whined, similar to a kid in a candy store.

"I don't give a rat's arse what games you've played, that chandelier didn't fall by coincidence!" England said, pointing to the fallen metal structure that was left of the once magnificent hanging piece.

As if agreeing to his outburst, there was a sudden draft and a cold, high and loud sound that mimicked a croak but with human( ghost,whatever) inflictions. America turned to his left and was met with a darting shadow that fled out of sight. The tall blonde manly shrieked before hiding behind the shorter blonde, his curl seemed to quiver as he shaked. England didn't move, he couldn't. Now he knew what it was like for all those "unfortunate" people in horror movies. That heart-stopping moment when you are paralyzed with fear and just want to stay like that. Well, he thought, nothing could POSSIBLY get any worse?

Suddenly there was a woosh and England found himself face to face with what could only be described as the world's most effective jumpscare. England flat out screamed and fell back into America who still wasn't very good at "reading the atmosphere" and in this case "seeing the scary ass ghost when it was right in fucking front of him" or at least that was England's opinion.

Both fell backward. The situation was so ridiculous and cliche that if it hadn't JUST happened the emerald eyed man would have laughed.

America, who had frozen up at England's unexpected (who expects a scream?) outburst, got up shakily. In fact he was shaking so bad he could have been a 3D video game character that was an old game format, (where everything shook, silent hill is an example) He then walked toward the kitchen, calling back as he did so,

"Man, you look white as snow! I'll get some cola from the kitchen and some snacks!" Then he disappeared through the swinging door. England sighed and just sat there. Suddenly there was another very high pitch scream and a loud BANG! from the kitchen. England got up quickly and headed toward the source of the noise all while thinking

'Ugh, I'm getting too old for these types of things'

When he entered the gleaming kitchen he found America spread out on the floor,knocked out,the pantry door slightly open. England did not like what he found in there.

* * *

**AhaAHAHAHAHAHAHA CLIFFHANGERS! I know you hate me but here are the reasons why i'm not updating**

**1.I'm lazy, let's just get that out of the way  
2. 8th grade started about 9 weeks back and this first period has just FLOWN by  
3. Writer's Blcok  
,many,many,many schoo projects and assignments  
5. We took the practice ACTs yesterday,those were easy as hell!**

**Anyway thanks for reading,i apologize again for not updating! (I swear i apologize so much i could be canadian!)**


	7. Chapter 7: Off topics & new information

**Oh, I am sooo sorry about the delays on my stories, it's just that 8th grade is kicking my a** (Gee, 9th grade sounds like sooo much fun *rolls eyes*) Also, i'm sorry if this chapter isn't good, i thought it would be funny but now as i'm writing it it seems kind of stupid... oh well i'll let you decide!(Be honest please)**

**Anyway,** **nothing to say here, but it's nice to see that you actually read this little prologue of mine!**

**Disclaimer: Obviously i do not own hetalia,if i did i wouldn't be here i'd be making this into part of the series! ^.^ or i'd be making a hetaOni movie because seriously that would be F*CKING EPIC!**

**Anywho, ONWARDS**

* * *

America opened his eyes to England kneeling next to him,looking slightly worried yet highly annoyed (if possible). He blinked and cleared his vision, sitting up as he did so. England sighed and stood up, and America realized that he was laying in a bed in one of the guest bedrooms on the first floor, not far from the living room. He looked up at the Briitish man and spoke up, his voice cracking slightly from waking up,

"Dude, how the hell did you move me to the guest bedroom?" He asked, bewildered, looking the thin, almost feminine male in front of him over.

England cleared his throat at the scrutiny. "Let's just say i'm stronger than i look" He said avoiding actually answering the question, his face a hard mask, "Are you alright?" He asked mockingly cocking an eyebrow, "Did you forget about the life-size _SLENDER_ model in your pantry?"

America turned slightly pink and let out a half-hearted "shut up," before swinging his legs around and sitting up properly on the side of the bed. A glass of water materialized into his field of vision, held by a black leather gloved hand.

"I thought you might like this after that all that screaming you did, which sounded very manly by the way" England said. America wondered how hard England wanted to hit him right now, "Anyway, why was that cardboard monstrosity doing in your pantry, anyway?" He asked.

America's cheeks turned red again before answering in a mumble,"Well, since we were trying to summon a ghost, i thought i'd try to scare...y-you" He trailed off as England glared at him, his usually bright emerald eyes dulled by anger to a muddled green.

"Well, that backfired, you git, and let me tell you it wasn't very convincing." He said, his voice a controlled neutral.

"What do you mean?" America asked. it had seemed real enough to him when he bought that scary fucking thing!

"It looks nothing like the real thing." England answered airily, before producing two pills from inside one of the pockets on his military uniform and handing them to America, who took them shakily.

"Wh-what do you mean?" He asked, swallowing the pills without thinking about what they could be.

"I mean exactly what i said. It looks nothing like the real thing." He repeated, a mocking smirk on his face. America sat in shock for a moment. A moment.

"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU"VE SEEN THE REAL THING?!" He asked loudly, staring at Britain with a mix of shock, terror, admiration, and a need to call bullshit.

"No" he answered, America sighed in relief. "I helped create it"

America squeaked a very manry squeak, convinced that England wasn't messing with him.

"Dude, are you like serious? That's almost as bad as the demon running around through my house!"

"Is it? I seem to recall that our experiment, or Slenderman, never actually hurt anyone. However, your released demon (he stressed out the word "your", signalling that he had been forced to accompany this mad venture) has managed to destroy your home, reduce you to a squealing girl, and inflict me with a wound that won't heal!" England swayed a little, red in the face. He sighed, slowly, his face going from red to it's natural pale pink. "anyway, you've been out for about 11 hours and your "ghost" managed to destroy part of the kitchen as well. I got hit by a frying pan(**Oh, Hungary)**" England rolled up part of his military jacket to show a purple, black bruise that ran down his forearm, "This spirit seems hell bent on inflicting me with injuries, or killing me and for some reason the rules of our superhuman abilities AND most of my magic don't seem to apply in this place."

America grimaced at the bruise on his former caretaker's arm, "So what you're saying is..."

England frowned, "If we get injured, we heal just like a human would; slowly. I can't even contact my spirits!"

America was about to retort that England's faeries weren't real but England shushed him with a look.

"Are you really about to doubt my abilites NOW?! You must be a dunce."

The American was about to reply when there came a dull thump from outside the locked door. And another. And another. To America it sounded like a body being dragged down (or up) stairs.

"Someone's found us..." England said monotoned.

"No shit sherlock"


	8. Chapter 8: A terrifying confrontation

**HI HI!** Another** chapter for my glorious readers! I would personally like to thank:  
iiShuChan(awesome!)  
coin1996 (Vintage)  
Greece's kitty (Stay away from Germany)  
Panda77(China's looking for you)  
3BFFS (Bad touch trio automatically came to mind)**

**I would like to dedicate this chapter to you all for commenting alot and telling me my writing is better than i think it is ( ok let's be honest, if you think your writing is perfect than you're conceited, or prussia, whichever)**

**And i would like to thank those who read but do not comment, for choosing my story! ^.^**

**Disclaimer: Fuck you all, i OWN HETALIA (i wake up from a delusional dream) Dammit, so close...**

* * *

The noise got louder and seemed to echo through the room. England felt ridiculously weak and irritated. Why hadn't his wound healed already? Even a human would have at least stopped bleeding! He looked over at a deathly pale America, who was shaking so hard his little curl wasn't visible. Why had they done this? He felt increasingly annoyed at himself for allowing the rather dim-witted American to do such a summoning spell. Why hadn't he noticed that the pentagram that America was drawing had been a demon summoning? He had accidently called Russia with that same design, for christ's sake! He physically shook his head and mentally slapped himself, maybe America took his stupidity from England after all.

He snapped back into reality when America shook him slightly.

"_D-d-d-dude, we have t-t-to hide_!" America stuttered urgently in a ragged whisper. He looked around and literally shoved England toward his wardrobe, "_We can hide in here!" _

_"This isn't Amnesia! You can't just hide from a demon, you bloody idiot!" _England whispered back, trying to fight against the arms that were pushing him toward the closet, and ignoring the burning pain he recieved as his lower body complained.

"If you don't get in there that's what we both'll be now GO!" America said, louder, heaving both of them into the (luckily) spacious closet, and landing on a mess of furry blankets that America had been to lazy to put away properly. England hissed through his teeth as America landed almost on top of him, his burning wound on fire. America tried to peek through the crack where the door and hinges met but gave up and settled for huddling under a blanket in the corner of the closet whispering to himself to stay calm and not panick.

England looked over at the american and was suddenly reminded of when America had been a child, huddling under a blanket when he had been scared of lightning. England put a comforting hand on the fuzzy lump, trying to aim for the shoulder. America seemed to relax a little at the simple touch, since he had stopped mumbling.

Suddenly the noise of a doorknob rattling shattered the silence in the dark wardrobe. It rattled for quite a bit, then abruptly stopped. A loud banging noise took it's place and America was shaking worse then ever, England's hand felt like it was vibrating. The sound of splintering wood filled the air along with the bangs, until a tremendous crash rang though the tensness, and the terrifying sound of a door falling to the ground was heard.

"Where are you~?" Said A ragged whisper that seemed to have several high-pitched voices strung together. The Acapella from hell. ( Think of the female demon voices from the game Siren: Blood curse)

America whimpered into the blanket, and England shushed him gently, almost lovingly (**Almost**). He looked through the crack where the doors didn't quite meet and saw the most terrifying thing he had ever witnessed, and he was a master at dark magic.

A pale, almost porceline(**i don't care how it is spelled**) looking girl of about 14 walked in, or at least you could call it walking, it looked like all of her bones were twisted at impossible angles to the point that there was a sharp _crack_ every time she moved. She was wearing a pale white dress that went down to her knees, and was stained red at odd intervals. Her face was somehow paler than the rest of her, a stark contrast to the black of her eyes, hair, and the red of the (somehow) wet blood still running down her face and arms, she could have been crying.

Those demonic eyes surveyed the room as her head twisted 360 degrees with a loud crack that made both countries wince. England kept his hand on the shaking American and started mumbling a few words of an ancient magic script only used by the faeries. A faint light appeared around the two of them, a kind of protection spell.

And not a moment too soon, as soon as the light reached what appeared to be it's limit the door was opened veeeerrrryy~ slowly, every creak that could have been heard was heard as the door opened to reveal the monster that they had released. Her head was straight now, but her arm, the one holding the door open, was bent almost the oopposite way, and her eyes, dull to the white light, seemed to not see them.

But at that moment, America decided to peek out of his temporary hiding spot, and he was closer to the door, hence closer to the "Ghost"( it seemed to have a more solid appearence since they last saw it) He opened his mouth to let out what no doubt would have been a very manly shriek, and England quickly clamped his hand firmly over his mouth, silencing the panicking nation.

America looked into those emerald eyes and noticed that they were actually a bright blue-green. He looked down and saw the glowing blue pentagram that encircled them, which had reflected in the Brit's eyes. He cautiously lifted his hand and took England's away from his face.

Bloody Mary was still there, she had stopped moving except for a twitch every now and then, and stood watching the interiour of the wardrobe, her head twisting from side to side like a dog's. England put a finger slowly to his lips, signalling that although Bloody Mary couldn't see them she would still be able to HEAR them. America nodded and slowly crawled back under the blanket. England was starting to feel fatigued because his magic took alot out of him if his faerie companions weren't with him. He started to breathe harder, in spite of himself, and muffled the sound with a piece of America's blanket. His wound was _really_ burning now, and the fact that most of his magic was blocked anyway was DEFINATELY not helping. America heard him and must have seen the state he was in, because he kept his head above the creamy brown blanket, and watched him in concern.

England looked at him pointedly, _help me!_ He felt like he was going to pass out, the past two days had finally taken their toll on his physical, and mental state.

America looked around, his closet was actually REALLY large, almost like another room itself and the circle covered about 2/3 of it. He shifted slowly around, looking for something to distract the almost immobal..._thing_. He found a smooth rock that he had gotten while on vacation that he'd never really paid attention to. It was a long shot but if he could throw it out the door...or the doorframe, then she might lose interest. America looked over at England, who was almost as pale as the ghost and shaking.

He threw back his arm and heaved the small rock toward the opening, where it sailed cleanly through. thank god he wasn't terrible at football! A muffled clattering noise told him that it had managed to fall off the second floor onto the first. The ghost jerked her head, making it do a 180 degree turn, again with a sharp _crack_. He winced involuntarily and watched as she slowly turned the rest of her body to match her head, and stumble out, breathing heavily in that acapella voice. The door of the closet swung close by her momentum and clicked shut.

America moved back to England who swayed as the glowing blue light dimmed then faded completely. He smiled, then swayed alarmingly. he blacked out in America's arms.

* * *

**YAY! So a longer chapter that is right behind the previous one. I'm so awesome (SUCK IT LOZERZ *jokingly does her horrible Prussia accent*) That ending is AWESOME (no joke whatsoever), do you not agree? Anyway R+R if you enjoyed, or don't. You'know whatever floats your boat. ( I'm secretly trying to get to 1,500 words or more so i'm just drabbling her)**

**I needed five more words!**

**Love, Tineri**


	9. Chapter 9: Lost and Found

**welcome back to Bloody Mary, a story where i try to scare the audience and the poor characters as much as possible! XD also, it's been awhile, i know, but for some reason i just hit a wall or something and i DREADED writing/finishing this chapter. I kind of ran out of steam and suddenly didn't care... I have NO idea where this came from, mind you, and it was gone the next day. Have any of you ever heard of 24 hr depression? No? Alrighty then *ace ventura FTW***

**By ze vay, i'm thinking about doing a hetalian truth or dare story so send in any truths/dares you like and i will try and put them in! (if i do the story at all, the reason why i'm putting this here is because i want to have a list of truths/dares people want me to do, instead of asking on the actual story because APPARENTLY you aren't allowed to do that, so i don't want to accidently boot my story off the site. Have you seen the guidelines? They're ridiculous! [but you didn't hear it from me XD])**

**Disclaimer: They have taken me prisoner and are forcing me to say that hetalia is not mine, nor will it ever be mine. But i'm sitting here thinking: a gal can dream can't she? At least i have kumajira (my female version of kumijiro)**

* * *

_He was laying on soft, wet ground, probably grass, staring up into a seemingly endless tanzanite, star sprinkled sky that reminded him of someone, though he couldn't recall who. Although he couldn't seem to recall anything at the moment. He sat up hesitantly, his instincts telling him to be wary of his surroundings. He seemed to be in a giant, mist filled forest... what was he doing there? He got up onto his two feet and stared confused from one direction to the next. His memories and mind were very hazy, to the point where he couldn't even remember his own name. _

_Did he have amnesia? If so, then how did he get it? He started walking in a random direction, aware that even though he was breaking twigs and crunching grass he remained silent. The only sound he could here was his heavy breathing, which seemed to get louder with every breath. It was like he was deaf to everything but himself. _

_Suddenly, there was a rasping noise, like a roar, but rougher, more primitive and the mist turned into a thick dark fog. He looked this way and that, feeling as though he had been sucked into a horror video game. A cold wind blew, causing him to shiver uncontrollably, but only half from chill, as he looked to and fro, trying to peer through that dark curtain of vapor._

_A square shape outlined in his vision, and he made for it numbly, not even caring that where he was going could have been less than desirable. As he got closer the shape solidified into a house of some sort,long since abandoned. He looked at the dirty, broken windows and saw something dart past the window on the third floor, probably wind on an old curtain._

_He ran for it, not quite knowing why he wanted to get out of the seemingly endless forest. He looked up and the dark night sky greeted him, the stars twinkling at him, almost mockingly. Wait, stars couldn't mock him, they are emotionless. Great, now he was losing his mind as well as his memory, sense of direction and time. _

_He reached the dilapidated assortment of bricks and opened the door cautiously, jumping violently when the door's creaking amplified through the thick silence/air. He stepped through and shut the door quickly. He looked around and seemed to find himself in a kitchen-like area, with a rotting wooden table that looked like it would fall to ash any second, a rusting shell of an oven, and a lone chair who's original color was something he could only guess at._

_After looking around for a bit he ventured through a doorway and found himself in a livingroom of sorts with furniture covered in eerie white, moth eaten sheets. The air seemed gray with all the dust in the room and he had an overwhelming and sudden urge to sneeze... but he held it back. The house seemed to give off a very strange vibe. It was similar to the one you often sense when in the room of a dearly departed, or in a cemetary. That feeling that if you make any noise at all you would wake something up, or just disturb it all around. The sense of death._

_He looked around and hesitantly ventured up the rotted staircase, terrified that the entire structure would fail and send him through the floor. He reached the top without incident, however and took in the unfamiliar surroundings. There were 5 doors: two of them were locked, one of them was a linen closet, one a bathroom, and one had a staircase leading up, presumably toward an attic. _

_There was a peculiarly overwhelming smell of copper coming from the black space above. If this were a horror movie he would have walked up there without a light or protection, but he avoided that door and instead tried to pry open one of the locked ones with a steel pin he'd found in a box of tools in the linen closet (which might have been just as bad as the attic, who knows? his mind is going). He heard a slight click and the door swung open on oiled hinges (strange, he thought) He walked into a perfectly ordinary bedroom, with a large bed, a white washed desk, a vanity, and a wardrobe, all of them could have come from yesterday's flea market or 50 years ago._

_Slowly walking into the strange, timeless room, he had a sense of de-ja-vu. He _recognized_ this room, but from where? He racked his mind to the point he gave himself a dull throbbing headache, but his efforts were in vain, for he could not remember a single fact about imself or anything that seemed to be connected to him. He suddenly felt sorry for every person who had ever had amnesia, because it sucked. He walked around the room, opening drawers, checking under the bed and in the wardrobe. _

_He saw that someone had carved the initials **A.F.J** into the top of the desk, and the marks looked fairly recent. He found a flashlight with a spare battery and felt a little better. Sitting on the surprisingly springy and uncreaking matress, he relaxed enough to start thinking clearer._

_Suddenly a rather loud _thump_ sounded through the dusty air, coming from above. He looked up and jumped when another _thump_ shook dust from the ceiling into his face. His heart quickened as he stood up, brushing dust out of his watering eyes. As quickly as he could do it silently, he ran from the room to the staircase, even though that was probably the worst thing he could have done. He clambered up the stairs and into the copper smelling room, flicking on the light, then flicking it off again. There was somebody up here who wasn't eagar to see him so why make himself known?_

_He waited for his eyes to adjust and he quietly moved through the room, moving his head so fast that to another person he might have a twitch. Another _thump_ sounded right behind him and he wheeled around, trying not to hyperventilate._

_There was a sudden flash from the window, presumably lightning, but again there was no noise. It briefly illuminated the room and from it's flash he saw an odd looking lumpy thing on the floor. He moved closer, slowly, until he was close enough he could have poked the lump with his combat boot. Another flash of lit up the room for several seconds and he felt his breath hitch as he realized that the "lump" was_ a person_. He quickly ran to the side of the figure, who was deathly still and didn't appear to be breathing._

_As he got closer, he gagged. The smell of copper was overwhelming and he realized with horror that the stranger was bleeding rather badly, there was already a pool of blood gathering near his side. He decided to take the risk and flicked on the flashlight. He nearly fainted with the sight: The man (for it was a man) was lying on his stomach with several wounds that looked like scratches running down his back._

_As far as he could tell the wounds were very deep, too deep in fact. They cut straight through the man's leather jacket like it was silk. He shined the light on the man's face and gasped. A pale face stared back, though his eyes were closed, and glasses hung lopsided off one ear, cutting into the bridge of the man's nose. His brown hair was damp and matted with dried blood, but he still had a curious flick of hair that seemed to defy gravity. _

_He quickly rolled the man onto his back, not sure if that would help. He checked the man's wrists and relaxed ever so slightly when got a very faint pulse. The man's chest wasn't moving, which wasn't good. He hesitantly put his hand up to the man's mouth to see if he was breathing, which got him no results. Should he do CPR? The man might be as good as dead, so it might not be useful anyway. _

_He warily got closer to the man's face, afraid that the man would jump at him or some other absurdity like that, when another flash of lightning lit up the room. Was it his imagination or did the man just twitch? No, of course it was his imagination. He leaned even closer, to the point where he and the man were practically nose to nose. Another flash of lightning, and suddenly the man's eyes snapped open. Bright tanzanite blue filled his vision before he had enough sense to jerk himself backwards, memories suddenly pouring back into his mind. He grabbed his head in pain as the stream of memories quickly became overwhelming. He looked up through watery eyes as a pale girl with a bloody dress slowly (and crookedly) made her way to the man and grabbed him under the arms, pulling the man away into a menacing hole of darkness. And he found he couldn't move from his pain induced crouch. _

_The man's eyes had shut again, like he had fainted. But as soon as she had started dragging him, his tanzanite eyes opened again. His mouth moved, but nothing could be heard. He seemed to get more frenzied and agitated, and started wriggling, trying to get out of the pale girl's grasp, all while trying to say something. As she dragged him along, another bolt of lightning flashed only with an ear-splitting **BOOM!** _

_Suddenly, it was like the sound was turned back on, and he could hear everything from the dragging of the man to the creak of the woman's steps. He realized the man was whispering something, but it was muffled, like listening underwater. The man's efforts to get away were slowly getting more fierce, with him kicking and hitting the girl randomly. He managed to deeply scratch her arm, causing her to hiss and loosen her hold. He tried to scramble away but she caught hold of his leg and started pulling again. He landed heavily on his stomach, and started trying to pull himself away with his arms. She yanked, sending him to the floor. She easily dragged him the remaining few feet to the "black hole" and started to pull him in. He started fighting even harder, even though it was clear he was losing. As his torso disappeared he cried out,_

_"ARTHUR!"_

_That name shattered whatever was holding "Arthur" frozen into place and he rushed at the rapidly disappearing man, trying in vain to grab his hand, but he was too late. He clutched at empty air as the man disappeared, crying out his name. Arthur jumped recklessly after him, and suddenly he was being thrown this way and that, shaken, seeing nothing but those haunting blue eyes change into demonic red and black ones, hearing his name being called..._

"Arthur! ARTHUR!"

He woke up.

* * *

**So a veeery long dream for you!**

**I'm sososososososososo sorry about that last part, i know it suuucks (to me anyway) I know i'm probably overthinking and everyone's going to comment "oh, no it was fine" so thanks. **

**On a brighter note, my longest chapter ever! I'm mentally patting myself on the back for making a really long chapter. I KNOW it's been forever but i've been up to HERE *puts hand up to temple* in homework,schoolwork, BLOODY FUCKING PROJECTS FROM SCIENCE CLASS ABOUT THE FUCKING RIVERBASINS OF NORTH CAROLINA (where i live) THAT NOBODY GIVES A FUCK ABOUT!...ok, thank you for reading out my rant, that felt nice ^.^**

**And like i said, if you want to, send in some truths/dares that you might want for my first few chapters of my Hetalian truth or dare story, and if you want i'll put you in the story to "personally" give your choices to the countries (just give me a description of what you want yourself to look like)**

**Later ya'll! ^.^**


	10. Chapter 10: Closet planning

**OH, MY GOD! 4 MONTHS?! HAVE I REALLY NOT UPDATED FOR 4 BLOODY MONTHS?!**

**yeah, I apologize for that. It's just that I have several other stories that accidentally took all my time from this one, and my schooldays were nearing the end, so I thought might as well wait for summer so I can write uninhibited. So starting today, I will write for at least an hour on various stories! Yay!**

**Disclaimer: seriously? Do we really need these up here? Yeah, I TOTALLY own Hetalia. Totally...**

* * *

_Arthur jumped recklessly after him, and suddenly he was being thrown this way and that, shaken, seeing nothing but those haunting blue eyes change into demonic red and black ones, hearing his name being called over and over__..._

_"Arthur! ARTHUR!"_

_He woke up._

* * *

"Alfred!" England shrieked, opening his eyes to find those azure ones that had been haunting his nightmare staring concernedly at him. They widened in shock and relief at his outburst, the owner smiling. America's smile slid off his face at the expression of pure terror on England's.

"Alfred..." England said shakily, suddenly hugging America as tears spilled down his pasty white face. America, shocked by the sudden contact and vulnerability of the shorter blonde, didn't move away.

"...I hate her...I hate her so much...why us, America? Why US?" England mumbled, almost to himself. Tears still slid down his face and he did nothing to stop them. America slowly unclasped England's hands from around his neck, but held them in his.

"Ar-England, what happened to you?" The American, so used to the Brit's usual boisterous and haughty facade, was caught off guard by his sudden clinginess.

"...stupid fucking..*HIC* _thing_..." England mumbled, his head down in embarrassment. America unclasped one of his hands and grabbed England's chin, forcing his face upwards. Tears still slid traitorously down England's pale face.

"_Arthur_, what happened?"

At the mention of his human name, England looked America unwillingly in the eye. The initial shock and raw terror from his nightmare had faded, calming the Brit somewhat. He sighed deeply.

"I was in your old house, though I couldn't remember at the time. The one I helped build for you in the woods when you were younger. I couldn't remember anything, not even my own name..." Now that he thought about it, the entire dream made a small ounce of sense. America tensed up slightly at the thought of his old home. "...it looked as if nobody had lived there for years, centuries even. Everything was covered in white cloth, or destroyed, or rotted through. And you were there...in the attic...though i didn't know who you were, it looked like you had been in a horrible accident...t-there was blood e-everywhere..." America looked panicked now. England's eyes dilated with fear at the next memory.

"You seemed unconscious, or dead...I considered giving you CPR, but you woke up before I could...And then _it_ appeared, behind you, dragging you toward a-a break or hole in the air...you screamed something I couldn't hear over and over, though now I think it was my name...my _real _name, and I suddenly remembered everything. You looked so scared, in so much anguish...and then you were gone...gone through a black hole that I desperately tried to follow...but couldn't...I'm sorry" Tears welled up in his eyes again.

America stood shocked, both by the horrid nature of the dream and England's sudden and unnecessary apology.

"Why the hell are you sayin' sorry? It's just a dream...a really fucked up dream." He stared into England's eyes for a second, allowing his words to sink in before handing the shaking nation a glass of blessingly cool water.

"A-America," he said, gripping the cold glass tightly and still sniffling, "that's just it, it didn't feel like a dream at all! I actually thought I'd lost you when I woke up, and I couldn't handle it. The pain. It was overwhelming..." His words trailed off as he took a calming breath. He peeked at America through his lashes. America was stunned and a little touched at the Brit's admission.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, y'know. This _is_ MY house."

England laughed halfheartedly and wiped his eyes with his hands.

"You know, I don't think you could leave if you tried, I guess you're stuck with me America."

"Yeah, I guess so. It's not so bad, being stuck with an old man like you." He laughed, a little like his old annoying self. England chuckled.

"It's amazing how much you've matured over the past few days. We should have done this sooner."

America looked insulted.

"I've always been mature, British dude. I'm just such a hero that sometimes it's not that obvious." He smiled widely.

England smiled and took a look at his rather dark surroundings.

"Where are we anyway? How long have I been asleep?"

America looked thoughtful for a few seconds before answering.

"We're still in the closet. I didn't...umm... *cough* have the..uh..courage to move you..." America looked immensely embarrassed, "But you did have another 'fit'. You were writhing and hyperventilating at times...I think you evened moaned my name once or twice...in terror of course. And you slept for...maybe 2 hours, I can't be sure."

England blushed heavily at what America implied, but decided to say nothing.

"Well, did anything happen while I was in Nightmare Mode?"

"Not that I know."

He relaxed slightly, "That's good. The bitch seems to be calming down, though I think I know how to get rid of her completely."

"Really? How? Are you going to use more of your magic?" America seemed slightly in awe of England now that he knew that England's abilities weren't the imagined result of "a few loose screws".

"Kind of. Since she is a demon, we need to perform an exorcism. Though since neither of us is a priest, and we can't leave the house, I'll have to use an old black magic spell that usually banishes the 'minion spawn of Satan." He smiled wryly at his wording, because he didn't really believe in God anymore. America looked confused.

"What do you mean, 'it's supposed to'?"

"It's an old spell. They sometimes backfire because the creator didn't iron out the kinks, but I'll do my best with what I have."

This did not reassure the American very much, but he let it go,

"Can I do something to help?"

England thought for several moments, working out different scenarios in his head.

"I guess I could try to teach you a couple of spells, for protection and whatnot. But you might not even be able to use them, since the magical trait from my family isn't exactly bursting from you."

"I don't care. Anything is better than nothing!"

"Very true. OK, let's figure out what we're going to do."

America watched the British nation talk away, almost like his earlier episode didn't happen. But, he was excited too. After these last few days of being scared shitless in his own home,

They had a plan to take it back.

* * *

**Gotta love that happy, hopeful note this chapter ends on. I hope you enjoyed! And if you're wondering why I keep putting yaoi-ish scenes into my chapters, it's because it's funny. I mean, even in the actual anime they have a certain tension around them that makes me think of a watered down version of France and England. It's hilarious! Anyway if you don't like you can tell me or whatever.**

**And I also believe that America COULD use magic if he actually knew what the hell he was doing.**

**And I have a question for you all: Do the characters switch topics too fast? I proofread and it looks like they do, but I don't want to change it...**

**Any who, THANK YOU! XD 3**


End file.
